


Punch

by scarletrebel



Series: Kindred Light [7]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:17:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletrebel/pseuds/scarletrebel
Summary: Grier's hit a breaking point, and Rook helps him crack.





	Punch

**Author's Note:**

> [mrpinstripesuit](mrpinstripesuit.tumblr.com) was kind enough to let me [live vicariously through their oc's](http://pinstripe-doodles.tumblr.com/post/167057302631/the-boys-fight-toland-is-a-bad-influence) when I was in a bad mood aha

“Hit me.”

The words come out, so blankly and simple, as if Rook is giving him instructions on how to clean a gun that Grier balks.

“What?”

“I said,” Rook shoves him, a firm push of his shoulders that sends the Warlock stumbling backwards. “Hit. Me.”

Grier starts to shake. He understands what Rook is trying to do, but the haze in his mind doesn’t lift. Zavala’s scathing words and Eris not helping at all, Avia finding something to shout at instead of making sure he’s okay and Eve trying to dampen him in any way as if it’s helpful. It’s maddening, frustrating, and this may be the first time that Grier has ever felt the persistent burn of a fire under his skin that wasn’t solar Light.

“Rook, I get–”

The Hunter decks him.

He, ungracefully, hits the floor. Not a sound comes out of Grier as he stops. Raises a hand to his face and wipes the blood that’s beginning to pour from his nose.

“Huh,” Rook starts. “Didn’t think the Awoken bled purple, fancy that.”

Grier, silent as the grave, stands and turns rapidly, tackling Rook to the floor.

The first blow feels better than he’s willing to admit, Rook’s head following the motion and Grier feels the crack – whether it’s his knuckles or Rook’s nose, he’s not sure. The second misses slightly, hitting Rook in the mouth, causing the Hunter to cough and splutter as the blood wells.

He spits it in Grier’s face.

Grier goes for another punch, but Rook catches it, using his elbow to smack Grier in the temple. The Warlock loses his bearings, groans, and Rook flips them.

“Feel better?”

Grier responds by kicking Rook in the gut.

“Thought so,” he wheezes.

Grier is  _sick_  of Rook talking. It bubbles up in his chest like something wanting to get out. He’s  _sick_  of  _everyone_  talking at him all the time and not listening to him when he does the same, so he pushes on the Hunters face, covers his mouth and isn’t proud of the way he grins.

Rook grabs his wrist, mumbling something Grier doesn’t care to hear.

Grier keeps pushing Rook back, but eventually the Hunters other hand comes for Griers unoccupied wrist and he pushes them both. It takes a while for them to give, but eventually Rook gets them on the floor aside Grier’s head.

“So,” Rook starts, and Grier snarls. “Where were you hiding those punches all these years?”

Grier wriggles.

“I’m not – I’m not  _done_ ,” he says, weakly.

Rook sighs. “Yeah, yeah you are buddy.”

Grier calms, then. The Hive bone of his chest plate rises and falls, the purple on his face drips past his ear, mattes into his hair. He looks up at Rook.

“I think I broke your nose.” He trembles.

Rook laughs, spits more blood on the floor to their side. “And a couple of teeth, too.”

Rook waits a few more seconds, until Grier’s eyes steel over. Regret, peace, who knows. He releases his wrists and lets him up. Rook groans through the motion of sitting back, summoning his Ghost to repair the damage.

Grier sits up slowly, melancholy, staring at the floor.

“You do feel better, right?”

Grier looks up, his fringe covering his eyes, tears welling up, threatening to break.

“No,” he says wetly.

Rook shuffles over and pulls Grier into his side.

“It’s okay,” the Hunter whispers, his Ghost whirring around the both of them. “You don’t have to be.”


End file.
